Calling
by Red-Like-Lithium
Summary: Both of their names are being called - - one isn't answering, the other does immediately. {HitsuKarin, spoilers}
1. Counting The Minutes Like Dewdrops

_A/N: __Spoilers for chapters 591, 592, and probably a few future ones as they update._

_Here, have a fanfic. Also, I **might** update this more as Bleach (which I do not own) releases more pages and this whole problem with Hitsugaya is resolved. . .or not resolved. We'll see, but for now, I'm going to mark this as _In Progress_._

* * *

**Counting The Minutes Like Dewdrops**

* * *

.

.

"You know, I may not come back."

She frowns and lowers her gaze toward the ground, memorizing each glistening, fresh dewdrop decorating the grass. She folds her hands in her lap and shifts her weight ever so slightly from where she sits on the bars that line their favorite place - the place where the sun sets in beautiful hues of red, orange, gold, and violet, where trees outline the view from the hill they perch at the top of. She exhales quietly and finds herself resting her head on his shoulder; he is tense, and although that's nothing new, it concerns her.

"I know," Karin tells him seriously. "But I also know you'll come home safely."

She can practically _feel_ him scowling through the muscles in his neck and she smiles bitterly, fully aware that she is clinging onto a very frail string of hope.

In all honesty, Karin deems herself lucky that he even bothered to see her. She knows everything, he told her details Ichi-nii had refused to, she knows about Quincy and how very few individuals possess their _Bankai_ anymore. She can sense the obvious decrease in power within this _Shinigami _she stays beside, sense his determination and unease all the same, sense the fate he has resigned himself to, just in case he really does die when the enemy returns - and they _will_ return, that much is obvious.

"I'll come home," he repeats her words in an empty tone, at a loss of his usual irritation, sourness, disinterest. "I promise."

Karin feels her cheeks dimple because her eyes are becoming damp and there is no way in hell she is going to cry over a stupid conversation such as this and she straightens herself up, smacking his arm playfully. He quirks a brow and manages a weak simper. "I wish I could be there to help," she states, swinging her feet back and forth as a distraction. She tucks a loose strand of black hair behind her ear, not caring enough to redo the falling ponytail. "Kick some ass for me, you hear?"

Finally, Toushirou breaks out in a grin - he doesn't do that often, but she has had the privilege of seeing a certain relaxed twinkle in his teal irises, a surreal sort of peacefulness in his features. It's times like these that Karin remembers just how old he really is, yet in a way, he's still a kid like her. His frame is still small - a bit taller than she is, though - and his mind has matured over the decades like that of an old man, and she used to tease him a lot about that until this war started.

To break a thick silence, Karin reaches over and ruffles his white hair, savoring the soft sensation, and laughs. "I'll be waiting for your next visit, Toushirou."

He nods curtly and intertwines her fingers with his, squeezing gently before releasing his grip. ". . .Urahara-san caught me while I was heading here."

"Urahara-san?"

"Yeah. I swear that guy knows everything," he mutters, reaching into the fabric of his robes and _haori_. "He gave me something. This way, we'll stay connected." He looks at her and adds, "It's your choice. Personally, I'm against it." He deliberately leaves out the part _You might stress over nothing if we go through with this_, but Karin gets the idea.

"You can. . .really do that?"

"According to that pervert, yes we can," Toushirou responds slowly, carefully, crushing the tiny object he'd stored in his clothes in his palm. He murmurs something under his breath, a _Hadou _spell probably, and he pauses, establishing that the slope below them is quite interesting suddenly. While he delays like that a second, Karin considers her options.

If she lets him go without any sort of tie to him, she'd most likely be able to convince herself that he is alright and carry on for the time being. It'd be hard, but doable, a simple bliss in the self-conviction that he is alive. But if she accepts this 'magic' and he gets hurt, even an insignificant cut or bruise, there is a large chance that she'd panic temporarily. And if he - dare she think it? - _dies_ out there, she would recognize it immediately and crumple in the middle of class sobbing for "no reason".

Her decision scrambles to her fast.

"Let's do it."

Toushirou, almost crestfallen in the way his spine arches and his wrists twitch barely visibly, dips his chin in reluctant agreement. A weak glow emits from his nails and he pulls away the black cloth from his chest and presses one hand just below his collarbone where his attire outta cover the marks of his fingertips. Following his lead, Karin exposes her shoulder and he hesitates, then touches the pale skin, brandishing five prints there, too.

They don't make a sound for a long time, and when someone finally utters a noise, it's Toushirou. "Don't do anything dumb while I'm gone, because now I'll know about it."

Karin smirks and pushes him playfully. "No guarantees."

After that, neither of them really make an effort to spark a conversation. She places her head in the cook of his neck again, both sighing as cool air gathers and makes their breath fog. The dewdrops shine a little brighter as the sun begins to set, as it does every evening and each night the two of them come here together. Like when they first met. And the second time. - - Rays stretch across the vastness of the darkening atmosphere, painting it like a canvas full of ink splatters and vibrant dyes. Pastels and oils and stains. It's beautiful, but Karin has a reputation to keep (as in _not_ acting like an actual girl) so she bites her tongue and slides her lids shut. Karin catches herself wishing they could stay like this forever.

When the world is inky and dim, they shuffle to their feet and he walks her home - not that a ghost could do much to protect her, but she decides not to point that out - and even during that, they don't chat much.

And after a while, they reach her residence, and both blankly read _Kurosaki Clinic_ while coming nearer.

Karin halts just outside and turns to face him, inhaling sharply and forcing a happy smile onto her face. "Thank you." On further consideration, she continues with, ". . .for everything."

Toushirou glares at her as if to inquire _For what?_ yet she dismisses this and wraps her arms around him, holding him close for what might be the final- _no_, just for a month or so. He awkwardly returns the gesture - he's terrible at hugs, she thinks it's funny. After which she inclines her jaw to reach his mouth as he kisses her, telling one another all they need to through physical contact. Karin pecks him on the cheek and he smiles for the last time for what will be a long time to come, brushing his lips against her forehead before both depart, not giving into the urge to look back. The flash of the _Senkaimon _casts her shadow ahead of her on the tar and Karin clenches her fist as not to spin on her heel and run to him.

No, rather, she opens the door to her house and steps inside, refusing to peek into the past, and greets Yuzu for dinner.

.

.

.

.

It's when Karin is concluding that Urahara-san gave the boy a dud that she feels it.

It's weird and diverting her attention from her homework assignments. They're little twinges of aching familiarity in her ribs and tingles of apprehension in her stomach and pricks of disturbing vexation in every gulp of air she takes. At first she disregards it, determining it is because she awoke at such an ungodly hour. However, soon the waves of anxiety grow stronger, and Karin finds that she is shivering. Hollowly, she rubs the spot on her shoulder, and begins to dread.

There is an overwhelming awareness of terror and horrified fear, then a flood of resolve and boldness, thereupon a comforting yet not-so-comforting residing tide of tiredness, and Karin sits there, completely on edge and dazed.

For a minute, she wonders if Toushirou is dead.

.

.

She is watching outside the classroom window without really seeing anything, cheek resting in her hand, elbow on her desk. The teacher drones away, reciting texts out of books that no one will ever use in life. A paper airplane floats by and Karin doesn't notice.

And then the world kinda stops.

Karin lowers her hand stiffly, eyes widening gradually the point that it strains her vision. The voices in the school become muffled and far off and her bones are really cold all of a sudden, she can't even gasp, her lungs hurt. She grits her teeth and can't even grind them properly, lower lip beginning to tremble, and somewhere, _Sensei _is repeating her name, over and over and over - -

For a split moment, she feels him resisting, then a dull unconsciousness dragging their connection downward.

She still isn't reacting to her name when Toushirou begins to draw blood from his friends.

.

.

.

.

_\- - Giselle is calling his name. . ._


	2. For The Sake Of Seireitei

_A/N: I have made a terrible mistake for I have no idea where I am going with this. I want it to stay along the lines of canon as Bleach chapters are published, meaning I have to wait like a week or two before updating. . . I'm trying._

_Spoilers for Chapters 591 - 594._

_Thanks for everyone's reviews, I'm sorry I'm so disappointing. You all mean so much to me!_

* * *

**For The Sake Of Seireitei**

* * *

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.

\- - Giselle touches his face as she bleeds on him and he, exhausted, gulps and feels himself being tugged under, his _reiatsu _crumbling, the clinging remnants of his life dispersing into the metallic liquid splattering across his skin.

The last thing he remembers is the aching throb of the fingerprints on his chest, a flicker of worry in scarcely recalling Matsumoto's situation, and an isolated memory (or is it a reality . . . ?) of someone kissing the tip of his nose.

And just like that, he can't quite recollect _her_ face, _her_ name, or why he is obediently dressing himself in white.

The one piece he _can_ hear in the murky depths of imprisonment is:

_"After all . . . it's all **for the sake of Seireitei **. . ." _\- -

.

.

.

.

_Karin grins at him and plants her lips on the tip of his cold nose and Toushirou scowls, sighing and letting her do as she pleases._

_He follows her around, holds secret discussions with her during classes. In third period, there is an empty seat after the kid moved to Europe with her family, so the _Shinigami _likes to occupy that spot and call it his own._

_When he can escape Soul Society, grab a position down in the human world and leave Rangiku-san in charge for a little while, he fancies neglecting his job ever so slightly to spend time with the dark-haired girl with grey eyes and a sharp tone. She scribbles messages on the top margin of her notebook to communicate with him, even risks whispering sometimes when the students around them aren't paying attention. After all, the boyish teenage girl chatting idly with a "ghost"? It sounds ridiculous and Karin doesn't quite enjoy the idea of living in an asylum, so she tries to be discrete._

_Toushirou speaks pretty loud since no one but her can hear him, entertaining her because school is boring as hell. His monotone, dull speeches tend to catch her off guard because suddenly something will be hilarious and she can't react considering the teacher would give her detention._

_There is a time, however, when they hold a fairly sincere and thoughtful conversation._

_"I have a question," Karin mutters out of the corner of her mouth while pretending to read a book. "You're _dead_, right?"_

_Toushirou frowns at her, unamused, and replies, "_Y_es."_

_"Then why do people like you still fear dying?" she ventures, facial expression neutral but stealing a peek at his legs propped on the desk in boredom, arms folded, chin angled downward. She wishes to know on account of the spirits she sees around town often fretting over this inevitable event._

_The boy ponders that a second and chooses his response carefully, explaining plainly. "Well, this is the afterlife for me. You could say it's the in-between. If I were to die again, though, then I'd be nothing. I'll stay like this for many centuries to come so long as I'm not killed again." He turns to look at her. "I suppose others fear a second death because they will no longer exist when that happens."_

_"That's . . . depressing."_

_"Very."_

_Karin knits her brow. ". . . Are you scared? Of dying again?"_

_Toushirou smirks sourly. "Who isn't?"_

_She ducks behind the book when _Sensei _peers up and grinds her teeth, scolding herself for falling in love with someone who had already died once, when she still had two more times to go._

.

.

.

.

It only becomes more and more unnerving as time stretches on.

She goes home that day, walking oh so slowly to keep her balance, to keep her legs going straight forward. She does this because she is scared.

Scared that she'll lose control of her own body.

Karin couldn't describe it even if she wanted to, so she shuts her mouth for the rest of the day, staring at her shoes in vigilant, unfocused determination to make it to her house without falling over. The sky is drab with overcast and she distractedly pulls her coat closer around her figure, knocking her book bag with her hand in the process. She blinks slowly down at the scattered papers littering the sidewalk now, dragging in a dry breath of air, lungs heaving in effort, and gradually kneels down onto the cement and begins to pick up her homework documents, one by one with delayed motions.

And she doesn't exactly know how, but Karin recoups her belongings and makes it to the Clinic, manages a soft _No thank you_ to Yuzu when she offers snacks, and gets up the stairs to her bedroom, collapsing on her mattress unsteadily, drawing her knees to her chin and hugging herself in failed comfort, gazing at the closed door as if waiting for him to come home like he promised, to step in and shrug nonchalantly, to . . . to . . .

. . . to _stop hurting people._

So her afternoon is an entanglement of anguished, angry shrieks of two men being slaughtered, of an oily, drawling voice threatening a walking corpse, and strange, unnatural twists of muscles and bends of joints even though she isn't moving. The words are far away, incoherent, like they're buzzing memories from a dream she had many years ago, like déjà vu. The only thing she understands for an entire hour straight is him straining to roar "_Daiguren Hyourinmaru!_" and it's painful to hear because her own throat rasps along with his and the _dead aren't supposed to tell._

By the time Karin finally grasps another reoccurring sentence properly, it's too late, and he's hitting the ground.

* * *

_"After all . . . it's all **for the sake of Seireitei** . . ."_

* * *

Karin sort of zones out, blanks, buries her face in her arms and rests her head on her curled up thighs, counting each exhale, each inhale. It's stopping her from panicking, stopping her from giving up.

A part of her wants to rid herself of the marks, of their connection on her shoulder, erase them, destroy them, be done with this stupidity and cross her fingers and convince herself that none of this ever happened and that Toushirou will be okay. And then the rest of Karin wants to punish herself, restrains herself from rubbing the flesh off of the five prints, endures. It's an endless war inside of herself.

It's all so distant, so remote, so muted and faint and _unreal._

She is so goddamned fixated on monitoring her limbs and mind and emotions that the person sitting beside her causes her to inaudibly cry out in surprise. This sensation is screwing with Karin's intellect and she looks dazedly at her father as he leans next to her and wraps an arm around her, pulling her close and massaging her back with repetitive circles. Isshin smiles sadly, like he _knows_,_ knows everything_, and patiently embraces his daughter, a certain sorrow deep in his own eyes.

He tells her that he's thinking of going out, asks her if she'd like him to pick up anything. He hasn't decided yet, if he'll go anywhere, but he's sincerely contemplating stepping out for a while.

Karin says no. It's croaky and dying and weary, but it is comprehensible and that's good enough.

Isshin mentions how Yuzu will be making supper in a couple of hours, wants to know if Karin has a craving for anything special. This time, she can only shake her head.

"You seem to have made a mistake," Isshin murmurs gently, and it's so out of character to hear him talk seriously. "We all do, you know."

Karin wonders if he means the seal on her shoulder and shudders.

Her dad cranes his neck to kiss her cheek and she can't retort properly so she allows him to, watching as he adds evenly, "He'll be alright. Don't worry."

Just outside the door, Yuzu slides to the wooden floor, back against the wall, stifling a worried whimper.

Karin lets herself cry.

.

.

_Daiguren Hyournmaru_.

It continues to replay like a broken record; the syllables are strangled, full of _distress_, like it hurts to say them, yet so thickly coated in malice that it makes Karin want to tear up again and again and again.

_After all . . . it's all **for the sake of Seireitei** . . ._

.

.

Karin's spine arches strangely when something stabs into her neck, something that feels suspiciously like a needle, and Isshin's arm grips her tighter as a low whine slips off her tongue.

It is when she starts to _scream_ that her father shatters, clenches his jaw with a flash of horrified responsibility that only a parent can possess, and unzips her coat, pulling the fabric away from her shoulder as if he knew where the connection laid all along, wiping his palm down her pale, clammy skin.

Karin recovers, voice having cracked and now very full of gravel, shifting to see that her sister has joined them, embracing her protectively as well.

Isshin gives her one last squeeze and gets to his feet tensely, closing the door behind him with a tiny _creak_, leaving Yuzu to comfort her.

Dreadfully and desolately, she twists her sore, sore neck to stare at her exposed shoulder. Toushirou's markings are erased; only faded freckles remain. She can't sense him anymore, as if it never even happened at all, and she sinks into her sibling's warm constraint, no longer quivering - only feeling oddly detached and insecure.

Downstairs, they can hear Isshin beginning to make an early dinner. Karin vaguely wonders if he's still pondering whether or not to run that errand of his.

Yuzu whispers her name (a desperate plea to know if she is okay) and she can't bring herself to answer; simply presses closer, letting down her many, many barriers.

.

.

\- - _Toushirou is still screaming._

_\- - He is so, so, so very alone. . . _


	3. What It Means To Heal

_A/N: It took like over a year to update this, holy shit. But to be fair, I never promised anything. . . I'm so sorry if there any grammatical errors, I'm so tired, omg._

_(Spoilers?) Anyway, I saw that Hitsugaya was brought back from the dead, and I flipped out. I'm sooo happy - but also very sad, because shortening his lifespan is a _bit_ harsh there, Kubo. _

_Anyway, if you're reading this 2K15, you're hella dedicated or you are very desperate for this ship, and I thank you for that. I don't know where I was going with this, but it's the last chapter unless some miracle happens. Thanks guys! Your reviews, favorites, and follows have meant so much to me, and I apologize once again for not updating this until now._

* * *

**What It Means To Heal**

* * *

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Karin thinks back to when she had asked if he was afraid of dying.

_(are you scared?) - - (who isn't?)_

She looks at him through her peripherals, lips pursed and eyes staring blankly at the grass. There are dewdrops there, and she tries counting them, but loses interest by the time she reaches eight.

It's the afternoon, and their little place on the hill isn't as beautiful as it was the last time they had been here. The sky is a grayish shade of blue, with wispy, grayish clouds spread around haphazardly, and a grayish filter of light from behind the place where the grayish clouds have hidden the grayish sun. It's late afternoon and there's a weak breeze toying heartlessly with her clothing. It's chilly out, and she rubs her arms a bit, watching her breath as it disperses into the air.

_(i'll come home)_

"I came back," he says. His voice is quiet, hoarse, and it's been like that ever since she first saw him after the war. "I came home."

Karin smiles a sad smile that doesn't reach her eyes. "I know. I said you would."

She glances at him, and Toushirou looks like he wants to give her a small chuckle, but the sound never leaves his mouth. She sighs. "I'm sorry. No one deserves what you and Rangiku-san went through. I'm so sorry."

Toushirou shakes his head. "Don't be." She frowns deeper at the softness in that tone. He had once been a sharp, authoritative talker. Nothing like this. "What Captain Kurotsuchi did was for the sake of _Seireitei_."

Karin winces.

She can feel the guilt rolling off of him in waves. The shame of attacking his own people, the horror of learning that he'd cut them, tried to kill them. Feeling responsible for Rangiku-san, for all that she, too, had endured. Knowing that _Giselle had called his name _and _he had answered._

She wants to take his hand, hold it, hold his entire body and keep him close to her, make it all go away. But the last time she had tried to touch him, he had shied away. It was subtle. But nevertheless, he'd moved just out of her tentative reach, facial features tightening slightly, and since then, she has kept her respective distance. She may not have the connection with him anymore, but she can see it, _sense _it - he feels violated, _dirty_, sickened by the fact that someone had stripped away at his identity, one brain cell at a time, piece by piece, until his _haori_ was replaced by Quincy white, manipulating him into a marionette. Every inch of him had been stained by _Giselle's __blood_.

_(are you scared? of dying again?)_

_God_, he's going to die. It may be years, decades, a fucking _century_; but it could also be months, weeks, _days_. Of course, he was always going to die, eventually, every is, she is, he is, that's a given. But knowing that his time is limited by half of a lifespan now makes the thought so _real_. Karin is scared out of her mind and she can only imagine how terrified Toushirou must be.

"Are you scared?" she whispers.

Toushirou tilts his head a little, thinking about that. ". . .Yeah. I guess. But it's not like I wasn't going to die anyway, one day." He looks at her, shrugging, expression remaining impassive. "I suppose I'll just have to make the time I have left matter."

Karin smiles again, murmuring, "I hope I can be there to help with that."

Toushirou honest to God smiles back. It's not very wide and it doesn't last very long, but it's there, and Karin thinks that maybe he's going to get through this.

.

.

Karin doesn't see him for about two weeks after that.

She leaves school on Friday, is the last one out of the door when the bell rings, and she wanders into the courtyard, listening more so than talking to her friends as they head toward the gate.

One of the boys stops abruptly and Karin nearly slams into him. The rest of the group pauses, asking if something is wrong.

The boy points just ahead of them. "Is that. . ._Toushirou_?"

Karin blinks. Then she pushes her friend out of the way to see. And behold, in all his white-haired, short-statured, scowling glory, is Hitsugaya Toushirou. He makes eye contact with her, and they size each other up, staring for a moment while her team mumbles among themselves.

She rolls her eyes, marching straight up to him while the others carefully tag along. She crosses her arms and leans her weight to one hip, raising an eyebrow expectantly. "And where have you been, Captain?"

He's wearing a long-sleeved, black shirt underneath a grey t-shirt, faded jeans, white sneakers, and a dark, beanie hat with a jacket tied around his waist. His hands are shoved halfway into his pockets. The red stamp on his shirt is some stupid logo Urahara-san had added to his shop recently, wanting to appeal to 'normal humans'. He must have gotten the _gigai_ from that old man, or he wouldn't be wearing his propaganda.

Toushirou is the one to blink this time, and for a second, he seems ready to scold her for bringing up his day job in front of the living. But then he realizes that the boys are only confused because _Isn't _Kurosaki_ their captain? Not Toushirou? They haven't even seen him in _forever_._

Instead, he motions lazily at the soccer ball that she has tucked under her arm. "It's practice day, isn't it?"

Karin hesitates, taken off guard. Last she had seen him, he had seemed very subdued, kind of tired. Now he's acting like he's perfectly fine. But she nods slowly. "Yeah."

The boy who had first seen him was grinning from ear to ear. "Are. . .are you gonna help us get ready for the season next year? Are you going to _play_ with us?"

Toushirou folds his arms over his chest in a mimicry of Karin. "That'll be up to your captain."

Within seconds, everyone is up in Karin's business, begging her to let him play. During their brief distraction, Karin gazes at the Reaper in front of her, searching his face for something. He obviously understands the silent question, because he mouths, "_I'm fine_."

Karin gives a quick, almost invisible nod, and says aloud, "Well, as long as he's offering. . ."

The team erupts into cheers. They clearly haven't forgotten their one-time teammate's skills, their favorite being the time he kicked the ball into one of their faces whilst doing a backwards flip. _Show off_.

They walk to the park, Toushirou getting many compliments concerning the new hairstyle and being pestered over whether or not he bleaches it, to which he never gives them a straight answer. He and Karin fall back behind the entourage of soccer players, and Karin peers over at him. "You're in good enough shape to play, then?"

"Are you doubting me, Kurosaki?"

"Yes."

Toushirou glares at her momentarily before turning his attention to the ground. "Matsumoto, a few others, and I have been taking it easy. Under the orders of the _Soutaichou_. If I'd sat in that office another minute, I'd have gone insane."

Karin laughs. "It's good to have you back."

Toushirou smiles and her very _being _swells with happiness.

.

.

They're lying on her bed. Practice had carried on into the late evening before anyone had decided to head home.

"There's no way I'm going back to that office," Toushirou had grumbled, head low and eyes hooded. Karin had grinned and shook her head. "I'll make you dinner. Keep you busy a bit longer before your Division starts missing you."

Of course, Yuzu made dinner, _not_ Karin. Karin can't cook for absolute shit.

Yuzu beams at Toushirou, hugging him without a second thought because she's excited to see "Karin-chan's boyfriend" again. Karin clenches her fist when she sees Toushirou stiffen at the sudden presence of her sister's arms around him, but he graciously doesn't push her away and pats her back awkwardly. "Good to see you again, Yuzu," he says as gently as Toushirou can.

The three of them have dinner together, and when Yuzu whips out dessert, the front door opens. Toushirou doesn't even turn around - he knows who it is and Karin bites her lip.

Isshin embraces Yuzu enthusiastically, tries to do the same to Karin, who accepts begrudgingly, and without so much as a double-take to his presence, ruffles Toushirou's hair. Toushirou mutters something about how "_he never changes_" and appears to be overwhelmingly relieved when Isshin leaves the kitchen to change out of his work clothes. Karin wonders what he's dreading most: the lecture about making a connection with Karin, the lecture about practically dying, or the lecture about "_when a shinigami and a human love each other very much. . ._".

They finish Yuzu's cake, thank her, and Karin brings Toushirou to her room before _her_ father and _his_ former Captain can return, locking the door and flicking off the light.

They're lying on her bed.

They're weary from hours of soccer, full from dinner, and unsure of where to go in the world. Karin flops down on the mattress first, and Toushirou follows after a terse mental debate with himself.

* * *

_[ - - Toushirou is still screaming. ]_

* * *

Neither of them speak for a long time while they lay there. Karin listens to his breathing, clinging pathetically to that reassuring sound.

She still hasn't touched him since the war. She's scared to at this point. She's okay with waiting for him to give her a sign that he's ready to be intimate again - that's what she's there for, after all. To do what he's comfortable with. And after being destroyed psychologically by a crazy woman with a corpse fetish, she really can't blame him for having a broad personal space.

Which is why she's surprised when he rolls onto his side, wrapping an arm around her waist.

Karin peeks down at him, eyes wide and heart fluttering. His forehead is pressed against her shoulder, breath warm against the pale freckles. His grip tightens in a tender squeeze and she simpers affectionately, running her fingers through his fluffy hair after pulling off his hat. She feels the smile against her skin.

Karin can't see his eyes, but she shows him her index finger, kisses it with an audible smooching noise, and touches it to his nose. He's like a dog - his nose is cold, like the rest of him. Toushirou chuckles and moves even closer to her.

They're going to be okay. _Toushirou _is going to be okay.

.

.

Karin is calling his name.

It's ten AM in the next morning when Toushirou notices the clock on her nightstand. They had fallen asleep there, hadn't moved at all - his arm is still slung over her stomach and her fingers are still in his hair. Sunlight washes through her blinds and falls over the blankets beneath them. There are some rustling noises outside of the room, maybe from the kitchen, and Karin slurs sleepily, "Sounds like breakfast is about ready."

"Mmm," he hums. "Five more minutes. Then I'll get up." Pry himself off, more like.

She lets out a drowsy laugh, leaning down to kiss the top of his head. "_Toushirou_."

Karin is calling his name, and _God_ does he love the sound of it when it's _her_ voice.

.

.

_\- - They kiss at the breakfast table, and it's the best thing that's happened to Toushirou in a long time._


End file.
